


Marry Me

by TheonSugden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, M/M, Modern AU, Ned is dead in this story, Tumblr Prompts, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dangerous night out with Robert leads to a marriage proposal. Answer to a tumblr prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marry Me

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt: "this is probably a bad time, but marry me?"

He was Robb’s uncle…not technically, but close enough. For years Theon thought Robb had been named after him - he hadn’t been, but Robert had always sort of run with the idea, to the point of showing up at Robb’s old footy matches drunk and spoiling for a fight like every sports dad from hell. 

Then again, Robert Baratheon could get into a brawl with a nunnery. 

On this particular night, Robert, still forgetting he hadn’t been 20 since sometime during the first run of  _Lovejoy_ , had been desperate to start a fight with a rugby team over…fuck all, really. He’d just wanted a punch-up.

Theon looked at Robb, panic barely hidden behind a casual smirk. Robb just stared back, wearing the serious face that most came in handy when they were planning pranks, but which lacked that same warm humor bubbling under the stern.

"Follow me," he mouthed, nudging Robert’s teetering frame toward Theon before walking up to the rowdy crowd who gripped beer bottles and pool cues as if they were torches.

"Listen," Robb began, voice strong and steady, that of a prime minister, or a president, or a king. "You’ve got every right to smash our teeth in, yeah? But…"

His voice dropped to match his downcast gaze at the floor, and Theon’s stomach clenched as he knew this wasn’t entirely an act.

"My dad died about a year ago today. Uncle Rob never got to say goodbye. They’d had an argument about the same old things and when he called to ask Dad out for a pint, like every other time, we had to tell him…had to tell him Dad was gone."

Theon studied the men, broken noses highlighted with the sea of scowls. Some of them were as bloodthirsty as ever, just waiting to strike. Others, maybe - for fuck’s sake  _hopefully_  - enough, seemed sympathetic.

"I MISS HIM!!!" Robert bellowed, probably due to his usual flair for the dramatic, but most of all because it was true.

Theon missed him too…Ned hadn’t been his father, but he’d been there when it counted, time after time.

Until one day, he wasn’t.

It had taken the sudden loss of Ned for Theon to stop being so scared of hurting Robb and to start seeing just what a strong, brave man he was. Robb had been the perfect son, the loving brother, and then wept in his arms when they knew no one could see.

The day of the funeral had been the day Theon had ended their “no-strings” relationship - if it had ever truly been that in the first place - instead wrapping the strings together to bind them as one. 

"I love you," he’d whispered as Robb had fixed his tie for him, in spite of knowing Theon would loosen it again like he always did. "Never loved anybody else. Never will. I just…I needed to say it while I had the nerve."

Robb hadn’t said anything. His smile had been enough. Sunshine through the tears.

Theon was so lost in the past that he barely noticed Robb shoving him, shortly followed by Robert, out the pub door, practically dragging Robert by the arm.

"Let’s go while we still have legs to walk on," Robb hissed through his teeth.

Theon shook his head, amazed at Robb getting them out alive. 

"Think I owe you one, mate," he said to Robb, tossing an arm around Robert to keep him from reuniting with his old friend, the gutter.

The walk back to their flat seemed endless with the faint traces of fear creeping at the back of Theon’s neck, but Robb strolled ahead of them like a bloody tour guide. Beyond getting a good look at that perfect backside, he mostly felt grateful for those strong shoulders that only weakened from his touch, for the knowledge that he had this man in his life, that life had cheated them both, had taken so much from them, but given back in kind.

Theon was so busy waiting for the safe to drop on his head, like the old cartoons he still watched some mornings, that he wasn’t sure he was grateful - no, grateful wasn’t the right word - he wasn’t sure if he appreciated…

Fuck it. He’d figure it out soon enough.

Once they got back to the flat, Robert hobbled to the couch as if there was a homing beacon attached to the pleather cushions. He kicked off his shoes at full velocity, reaching for his trouser zip as Theon threw a jacket over waist to spare them both future psychological scarring.

"Should I make him some coffee?" Robb whispered, kissing his neck in just the right place, more in a, we-made-it-out-I’m-so-relieved-gods-I-love-you way than in a horny way.

"Think we should just let him sleep it off."

Robb looked unsure, but didn’t argue.

"You’ve got work in the morning. I’ll keep an eye on him," Theon offered, accepting another kiss on the neck, and a swat on the bottom, as a yes.

Theon kicked his own shoes off, flicking through one of those interchangeable computer magazines he mostly liked because some of the adverts gave him ideas. 

He dozed off, not realizing how much time had passed until the sun through the windows pierced at his neck. 

He rolled it, hoping to ask Robb (who’d probably been up for hours, fixed a healthy breakfast, and done all the appropriate exercises) for a rub, when he saw the note Robb left with a muffin and a glass of apple juice.

**_You looked so cute. Took a snap of you drooling to embarrass you on the proper occasions. I’ll try to pop in for lunch. Love you._ **

Gods, did Theon love him too. Even reading his goopy scrawl of a note made Theon blush.

Before Theon could polish off the muffin, Robert woke up sputtering. Theon leaned in as Robert grasped at his hand suddenly, roughly, his lager-heavy breath coarse in Theon’s ear.

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday," Theon replied.

"Supposed to go tour a building with Renly. Useless skiver."

Theon winced at the bitterness, wondering if his brothers spoke of him the same way.

"Everybody says I hate Renly cause he’s…"

"Yeah, I get it," Theon interrupted, not looking forward to slurred slurs as a way to start the day.

"That’s a sackful of bloody BOLLOCKS! If I hate him it’s cos he’s an ungrateful piece of SHIT!"

His voice went from thunder to a slight rain as he stared at his trembling hands. 

"I love my brothers. Ashamed of me… _pity me_ …can’t be in the same room with me, look at me like I’m already dead. Wouldn’t come to Ned’s funeral even when I…I begged…”

The last word was a whisper.

Theon took Robert’s hands in his own, aware the meaty paws could easily crush his fingers, but sensing Robert needed the connection.

"I don’t know your brothers - I barely know my own and I thank fuck for that every day - but I always had people. Robb, and Ned, just like you had. For a long time it wasn’t enough. Maybe it still shouldn’t be. Maybe I should’ve had more than just my sister and a sick mum. But it’s what I had, and anything good in me wouldn’t be here without ‘em."

He could see Robb standing in the doorway as he spoke, head tilted, staring all gooey-eyed and sweet the way he usually did whenever Theon acknowledged a role beyond defensive prick.

"So if you need us, need me…I’m here. Even if you spew all over this sofa. Kinda hope you do…I hate this shit ugly thing."

Robert roared with laughter before slowly falling back into a slump.

Once Theon knew Robert was out again, he walked over to Robb, surprised when Robb pulled him close.

"Morning breath," Theon warned before Robb gave him a tender, loving kiss.

"I’ll live dangerously," Robb teased. 

"Joffrey call in another prank threat to get Stark prices plunging? You should be at wo…"

Robb stopped him with another kiss, longer this time.

"Took the day off. I’m the boss now, right? Well, sorta."

It wasn’t until the second kiss that Theon realized Robb was sweating. 

"You ill? I know I’m good, but I’m not that good."

Robb shook his head, suddenly more nervous than Theon had seen him since they were children.

The nerves spread, like so much else they shared, when Robb pulled a small grey box out of his coat pocket.

"This is probably a bad time, but marry me?"

Before Theon could say anything, Robb, with shaky, slick hands, slipped the ring on his finger.

"Dirty trick," Theon muttered out of the side of his mouth, looking closely at the iron band, iron with traces of gold.

"I’d get on my knees, but I know where your mind goes," Robb joked, feebly.

If Theon said no, he knew Robb would understand it, and accept it. He’d break Robb’s heart, something he’d spent years avoiding whatever way possible, but Robb would still love him. He wouldn’t want Theon to marry him out of expectation or guilt. 

Yet he knew he’d never forgive himself if he hurt Robb that way.

But he couldn’t lie to Robb. If he didn’t want to marry him, he couldn’t say it, couldn’t bring up a sore they’d pick at and never heal.

"You don’t have to decide now," Robb stressed, bouncing on one foot, then the other, in spite of himself. 

If only it were that easy. Waiting and wondering would just make the decision worse. Theon didn’t do well with waiting. He never had.

He took a deep breath, remembering that walk home last night, remembering that feeling of something being missing.

He was starting to know what it was.

He wanted to fake Robb out, make him squirm, but Robb was so bloody _eager_ all Theon could think about was getting a taxi for their guest and snogging Robb’s face off the rest of the day and night. The rest of their lives. 

"I’m gonna marry you, Robb. I’m gonna marry you with half-cut Robert Baratheon as a witness." 

Robb looked fit to bursting, his face as ginger as his hair. In a Hollywood movie, Theon would have been spun around at this point, hair flying in the breeze. 

He settled for Robb briefly picking him off the ground and putting him back down, squealing (Theon was _never_  going to let him live that down) and then crying into his favorite ratty grey t-shirt. A t-shirt he would, now that he was in sad emo mode, never wash again.

Theon rested his forehead against Robb’s, kissing his nose.

His fiance’s nose.

He moved to straighten Robb’s tie, which had become a mess in all their excitement, straighten the tie the way Robb had tried and failed so many times for him.

Robb grasped his hands as he began to work.

"Leave it," Robb said, kissing his fingers, holding them tight. "I like it better this way."


End file.
